Saint  James's  Church,  Chicago 
And  Its  Rector: 

A  Study  of  a  Metropolitan  Pastor 

By  James  O'Donnell  Bennett 


(Reprinted,  with  additions  by  the  writer,  from  the  Chicago  Record-Herald, 

of  January  12,  1914,  and  now  published  by  a  member  of 

St.  James's  Church  for  distribution  in  the  Parish). 

I9H 


LAWRENCE  J.  GUTTER 

Collection  of  Chicagoona 

THE   UNIVERSITY   OF   ILLINOIS 
AT  CHICAGO 

The  University  Library 


Saint  James's  Church,  Chicago 
And  Its  Rector: 

A  Study  of  a  Metropolitan  Pastor 

By  James  O'Donnell  Bennett 


(Reprinted,  with  additions  by  the  writer,  from  the  Chicago  Record-Herald, 

of  January  12,  1914,  and  now  published  by  a  member  of 

St.  James's  Church  for  distribution  in  the  Parish). 

1914 


NOTE. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  proprietors  of  the  "Chi- 
cago Record-Herald"  or  some  enterprising  publisher 
will  collect  in  book  form  the  remarkable  series  of  arti- 
cles contributed  tins  year  by  Mr.  James  O'Donnell 
Bennett  to  the  Monday  edition  of  the  "Chicago  Record- 
Herald"  on  the  Preachers  of  Chicago.  If  for  no  other 
reason,  these  articles  should  be  preserved  for  their 
historical  and  literary  worth.  Mr.  Bennett  has  summed 
up  and  expressed  clearly  and  interestingly  the 
characteristics  and  work  of  the  men  who  are  guiding 
and  developing  the  religious  life  of  Chicago.  No  more 
valuable  contribution  has  been  made  to  the  history  of 
a  city  which  now  ranks  with  the  greatest  cities  of  the 
world,  and  is  conspicuous  for  the  multitude  and  the 
magnitude  of  the  problems  with  which  society  is  in 
these  days  confronted. 

Particularly  fortunate  has  Mr.  Bennett  been  in  his 
notes  on  the  rector  of  St.  James's  Church.  As  a  mem- 
ber of  that  parish,  I  feel  that  he  has  depicted  one  of 
the  ablest  of  the  men  ivho  have  had  pastoral  care  in 
this  city, — a  great  preacher  withal,  as  well  as  a  broad 
and  richly  endowed  scholar,  and  a  master  among  men. 

No  man  in  the  American  Episcopal  Church  has  had 
a  more  brilliant  and  useful  career  than  this  beloved  and 
revered  priest.  He  has  stood  through  a  long  ministry 
for  the  best  traditions  of  the  Church  of  which  he  is  an 
obedient  son.  Sane  in  judgment,  generous  in  his  ap- 

3 


preciation  of  men  who  cannot  think  as  he  thinks,  com- 
prehensive and  thorough  in  his  knowledge  of  the 
history  and  doctrines  of  the  Christian  Church,  with  a 
loving  recognition  of  the  honest  opinions  and  good 
works  of  people  of  other  religious  bodies,  Dr.  Stone 
has  won  the  confidence  and  affection  not  only  of  his  own 
parishioners,  but  also  of  the  clergy  and  laymen  of 
many  denominations.  Men  who  know  him  look  to 
him  as  one  whose  life  and  utterances  are  most  helpful 
in  furthering  the  efforts  towards  Christian  unity. 

Because  of  my  admiration  for  him,  to  whom  so 
many  earnest  souls  are  looking  for  spiritual  help,  and 
looking  not  in  vain,  I  have  reprinted  with  Mr.  Ben- 
nett's permission  the  article  concerning  Dr.  Stone 
which  appeared  in  the  "Chicago  Record-Herald"  of 
January  12th,  1914;  and  I  trust  that  the  many  friends 
of  Dr.  Stone,  both  within  and  outside  of  St.  James's 
Church,  will  accept  with  kind  consideration  this  tribute 
to  one  who  is  indeed  deserving  of  all  that  Mr.  Bennett 
has  so  eloquently  and  discriminatingly  written. 


After  the  people  have  gone  their  ways  from  service, 
I  sometimes  find  a  contemplative  pleasure  in  wander- 
ing over  the  venerable  churches  which  have  so  pro- 
foundly and  so  tenderly  uttered  the  spiritual  aspiration 
of  the  community  from  the  days  of  its  feeble  begin- 
nings to  its  spacious  and  victorious  present.  These 
eloquent  structures  are  almost  the  sole  monuments  of 
our  remote  past,  and  they  are  few.  Fire  and  commerce 
have  with  equal  ruthlessness  swept  away  the  relics  of 
the  town.  The  taverns,  the  playhouses,  the  historic 
halls  and  most  of  the  mansions  of  an  older  time  have 
vanished,  and  little  remains  to  carry  the  eye  of  the 
antiquary  in  a  fond  backward  glance. 

That  worthy  impulse  of  the  heart  to  muse  upon  the 
achievements  of  those  who  have  done  their  work  and 
gone  to  their  rest  is  perhaps  nowhere  else  in  our  bor- 
ders so  fully  and  so  profitably  gratified  as  at  St. 
James 's  Church,  the  home  of  a  parish  that  has  existed 
for  eighty  years.  Here  remembered  are  the  builders 
of  the  city,  the  forefathers,  the  neighbours ;  and  I  love 
to  wander  along  the  quiet  aisles  to  survey  the  tokens 
in  bronze  and  marble  of  the  piety  of  the  dead  and  the 
love  and  veneration  of  the  living.  Their  soft  radiance, 
their  dignified  permanence,  their  lines  of  commemora- 
tion at  once  terse  and  stately,  infuse  the  mind  with  a 
pensive  humility  and  impart  to  it  a  salutary  steadiness, 
and  reverie  becomes  no  idle  occupation. 


BLOSSOMING  IN  THE  DUST. 

There  is  a  gracious  and  heartening  democracy  in  the 
noble  array  of  tablets  and  commemorative  windows. 
On  the  left  of  the  chancel  a  great  bishop  is  remembered, 
while  a  few  feet  distant  there  is  a  rich  memorial  to 
that  August  Berg  concerning  whom  the  bronze  records 
the  fact  that  he  was  for  six  and  twenty  years  a  member 
of  the  choir,  and  that  he  was  " faithful  and  beloved". 
Like  his  service,  the  memory  he  leaves  is  sweet.  He 
gave  as  an  artist  and  a  Christian  to  his  faith,  and  I 
think  I  shall  remember  him  longer  than  I  shall  remem- 
ber the  bishop  whose  name  lives — in  secular  history 
at  least — principally  because  he  was  an  implacable 
hunter  of  heretics. 

On  another  wall  the  trustful  piety  and  neighbourli- 
ness  of  a  woman  are  set  forth  for  a  remembrance  and 
a  message,  a  woman,  says  the  tablet,  "  whose  constant 
gift  of  her  broad  sympathy,  brave  cheer,  untiring  en- 
ergy and  wise  administration  was  devoted  to  the  better- 
ment of  the  community  in  which  she  lived  and  to  the 
helpful  service  of  every  life  within  the  reach  of  her 
beneficent  influence". 

Such  lives  are  not  forgotten.  They  live  in  more 
than  words,  and  the  words  themselves  live  irrespec- 
tive of  the  name  that  is  honoured,  conveying  a  loving 
message  to  posterity,  while  the  name  of  some  financier 
who  commanded  the  marts  a  few  short  years  ago  is 
already  but  a  name. 

The  austere  prelate,  the  benevolent  merchant,  the 
sweet  singer,  the  pioneer  Dorcas,  the  faithful  warden 
here  speak  again  a  various  message.  Some  tell  of 
great  power  rightly  used,  and  some  of  the  common 

6 


round  of  tasks  lovingly  performed.  The  charm  of  the 
simple  neighbour  lines  s  of  a  day  when  the  town  was 
not  so  vast  reasserts  itself.  The  heart  is  warmed  by 
the  record,  and  a  gentle  spirit  of  emulation  is  stirred. 
These  kind  and  diligent  ones  seem  still  to  be  here,  and 
bronze  and  marble  take  on  the  warm  hues  of  life.  Death 
wears  the  raiment  of  remembered  benefactions,  and 
is  no  longer  desolate.  Upon  some  of  the  stones,  wreaths 
of  Christmas  greens  have  been  placed — the  message  of 
resurrection  imposed  upon  the  record  of  death — and 
from  the  tower  descends,  as  we  move  along  the  shadowy 
aisles,  the  music  of  chimes,  wafting  to  memory  on  the 
harmonies  of  a  plaintive  hymn  the  name  of  a  departed 
benefactor  of  the  parish:— 

Comes,  at  times,  a  voice  of  days  departed, 
On  the  dying  breath  of  evening  borne, 

Sinks,  then,  the  traveler,  faint  and  weary  hearted, 
"Long  is  the  way"  (it  whispers)  "and  forlorn." 

Comes,  at  last,  a  voice  of  thrilling  gladness, 
Borne  on  the  breezes  of  the  rising  day, 

Saying, ' i  The  Lord  shall  make  an  end  of  sadness ; ' ' 
Saying,  "The  Lord  shall  wipe  all  tears  away." 

Such  churches  are  tremulous  with  personality,  and 
vocal  with  most  intimate  spiritual  experiences.  Past 
that  ponderous  font,  at  which  their  children  were  bap- 
tized, the  dead  have  been  borne,  and  before  that  chancel 
rail,  whither  came  the  men  and  women  of  their  families 
to  be  wed,  they  have  lain  for  a  little  space.  Here  the 
apostolic  hand  has  blessed  the  budding  generation. 
Here  the  purest  joys  of  human  experience  have  received 

7 


benediction,  and  here  the  heart  has  cried  out  in  its  deep- 
est grief.  So  much  rejoicing,  so  much  sorrow,  so  much 
consecration  endow  these  places  with  a  peculiar  love- 
liness and  confer  upon  them  a  sanctity  which  no  formal 
office  of  dedication  can  bestow. 


TEEASUEES  UNDEE  GROUND 

Moving  thus  in  meditation  along,  I  passed  a  massive 
structure  of  marble  erected  to  soldiers  from  this  parish 
and  carved  with  the  words :  "In  Honor  of  Those  Who 
Fought:  In  Memory  of  Those  Who  Fell,"  and  came  at 
last  to  a  narrow  flight  of  steps  that  led  beneath  the 
north  transept  of  the  church.  Descending,  I  viewed  the 
splendours,  minute  but  rich  and  solemn,  of  the  Chapel 
of  St.  Andrew,  which  literally  enshrines  the  spot 
whereon  the  Brotherhood  of  St.  Andrew  was  founded, 
thirty  years  ago,  by  James  L.  Houghteling  and  the 
twelve  men  of  his  Bible  Class  who  met  here  for  study 
and  prayer.  To-day  the  order  numbers  fifteen  thou- 
sand men,  and  has  chapters  throughout  this  country, 
and  in  Canada,  Scotland  and  Australia.  The  Chapel 
of  the  Founders  is  worthy  of  that  far-flung  line.  There 
is  no  other  architectural  gem  in  Chicago  comparable 

with  it. 

*         *         * 

DECENTLY  AND  IN  OEDEE. 

St.  James's  looks  like  a  church,  and  not  like  either 
a  lecture  hall  or  the  common  room  of  a  social  settle- 
ment. Nor  has  it  encumbered  its  ancient  dignity  with 
the  intricate  splendours  that  distinguish  the  ritualistic 

8 


movement.  It  is  churchly  without  being  oppressively 
ecclesiastical.  And  that  is  why  it  has  not  lost  its  old- 
fashioned  air  of  neighbourliness.  It  has  the  finished 
look  that  goes  with  solid  permanency,  and  that  only 
solid  permanency  can  impart  to  an  institution.  This 
not  easily  defined  quality  it  communicates  to  the  be- 
holder, and  surrendering  to  its  simple  stateliness  he 
feels  that  decorum,  peace  and  beauty  here  abide.  There 
is  a  calmness  about  it  all,  and  he  goes  forth  not  only 
soothed  but  fortified.  It  is  the  benison  of  peace. 

Something  of  all  this  you  see  in  the  eyes  of  the  line 
of  eleven  former  rectors  who  ministered  in  St.  James 's 
during  its  first  sixty  years,  and  whose  portraits  hang 
amid  parchments  and  the  cartoons  of  Raphael  in  the 
sacristy. 

Wherever  it  has  been  housed  these  eighty  years, 
St.  James's  parish  has  always  been  thus  churchly.  It 
was  the  first  Protestant  Episcopal  church  to  develop 
the  vested  choir  idea  in  the  Middle  West.  From  its 
tower  first  floated  to  the  ear  of  the  town  the  entrancing 
music  of  bells  chiming  in  the  strains  of  a  familiar  hymn 
as  the  shadows  descended  upon  the  weary  city,  and  to 
the  present  time  that  touching  farewell  to  the  day  com- 
memorates the  name  of  an  early  worthy  of  the  com- 
munity, James  Carter. 

St.  James's  was  the  first  Episcopal  church  in  Chi- 
cago. Founded  as  a  mission  in  the  autumn  of  1834,  and 
aided  by  a  grant  of  $200  from  the  Episcopal  Mission- 
ary Society  in  New  York,  it  became  self-supporting  at 
the  end  of  a  year.  Then  it  built  its  first  edifice,  and 
that  edifice  immediately  was  the  pride  of  the  town.  For 
it  was  built  of  bricks,  and  such  a  token  of  permanency 


in  the  new  prairie  capital  meant  no  light  thing  to  our 
forefathers,  who  were  accustomed  to  seeing  rows  of 
shanties  swept  away  by  fire  in  a  night.  The  bricks, 
which  probably  came  as  ballast  in  the  ships  from  De- 
troit, meant  something  spiritually,  too.  Surveying  the 
firm  new  edifice,  the  whimsical  fathers  said,  * i  The  Lord 
is  with  us,  and  apparently  He 's  come  to  stay. ' ' 

For  many  years  St.  James's  was  popularly  known 
as  "the  Brick  Church,"  and  part  of  that  time  it  was 
the  only  brick  building  in  Chicago. 

The  second  edifice  was  stone.  It  was  built  in  1861 
and  was  destroyed  in  the  great  fire  of  1871,  the  sole 
feature  of  it  spared  being  the  massive  monument  "In 
Honor  of  Those  Who  Fought :  In  Memory  of  Those  Who 
Fell. ' '  A  great  expanse  of  wall  dropped  across  it  when 
the  fire  was  raging,  but  intervening  between  it  and  the 
sculpture  were  mighty  beams  which  sustained  the  wall, 
and  formed  a  kind  of  cavern  in  which  the  memorial  lay 
for  many  days.  It  was  exhumed,  practically  unscathed. 
It  stands  to-day  in  the  dim  vestibule  of  the  church. 
Lights  ought  to  hang  above  it,  for  it  means  much,  and 
on  Decoration  Day  flowers  should  there  be  bestowed. 

Immediately  after  the  fire,  the  present  church  was 
erected  on  the  lines  of  the  one  burned  down. 


SERVICE  AT  ST.  JAMES'S. 

Like  the  church,  service  at  St.  James's  is  simple, 
but  it  does  what  a  service  ought  to  do.  It  commands 
and  makes  harmonious  the  distances.  It  is  not  loaded 
with  pageantry,  but  it  does  not  rattle  around  in  its  spa- 
cious setting.  Of  ritualistic  solicitude  for  the  details 

10 


of  ceremonial  and  symbol  there  was  no  sign  on  the 
Sunday  here  chronicled,  except  that  the  choir  assumed 
the  eastward  position  during  the  singing  of  the  Glorias. 
The  singers,  numerous  and  carefully  trained,  were 
heard  to  the  best  advantage  in  the  Te  Deum,  and  in 
the  full-bodied  strains  that  carried  the  words,  "Thou 
didst  open  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  to  all  believers/' 
they  produced  a  magnificent  effect.  The  volume  was 
great,  the  feeling  true  and  deep. 

The  rector  read  the  prayers  forcibly,  and  such  ca- 
dence as  he  employed  was  employed,  apparently,  not 
for  the  sake  of  the  cadence,  but  for  the  sake  of  the  far- 
carrying  properties  of  cadence,  which  is  precisely  the 
reason,  and  not  for  flummery,  that  cadence  was  em- 
ployed in  the  vast  cathedrals  of  ancient  times  and  still 
is  used  in  them  to-day.  He  was  grave,  leisurely  and 
composed,  but  he  was  expressive,  and  in  the  "Let 
your  light  so  shine  before  men"  he  took  what  many 
a  priest  turns  into  routine,  and  made  beautiful  and 
appealing  again.  In  serving  the  elements  at  Com- 
munion he  whispered,  and  that  produced  an  effect  of 
hushed  solemnity  which  nobody  could  gainsay.  But, 
speaking  merely  as  an  onlooker,  I  think  I  liked  better 
the  measured  sonority  of  the  venerable  Cheney  of 
Christ  Church,  whom  I  had  heard  a  few  Sundays  be- 
fore, for  he  contrived  to  infuse  the  office  with  equal 
holiness  without  giving  it  a  certain  shuddering  awe 
which  the  whisper,  rapid,  ceaseless  and  remote,  car- 
ried. But  perhaps  that  is  just  the  effect  they  wish  the 
worshipper  at  St.  James 's  to  feel. 


ll 


THE  RECTOR  OF  ST.  JAMES'S. 
Nineteen  years  ago  this  month  JAMES  SAMUEL 
STONE,  Englishman  and  broad-churchman,  came  to 
St.  James's  from  Philadelphia,  where  he  had  been 
rector  of  Grace  Church  for  nine  years.  He  was  forty- 
three  years  old  then,  and  a  dwindling  congregation  and 
a  debt  of  nearly  $40,000  did  not  stagger  him.  The  debt 
has  long  since  been  cleared  away,  an  endowment  of 
over  $70,000  has  been  accumulated,  and  the  church  has 
grown  in  numbers  and  influence.  "  About  two  thou- 
sand look  to  us  now,"  the  rector  said  simply  when  he 
was  asked  for  figures  on  membership.  The  annual 
budget  is  $23,000,  and  the  property  of  the  parish  may 
be  described  as  comprising  a  church,  a  school,  and  work- 
rooms. See  it  all  at  night  when  it  is  thrilling  with 
lights  and  laughter  and  throbbing  with  activity!  In 
some  parts  of  the  great  parish  house  amusements  of 
various  kinds  are  in  progress;  in  -other  parts,  classes 
in  dressmaking  and  millinery  are  working.  The  rector 
passes  from  room  to  room.  He  pauses  among  the 
women  intently  bent  over  their  fabrics  and  cutting- 
tables.  "Doesn't  take  as  much  now  to  make  a  dress 
as  it  used  to,"  he  says  gravely.  Laughter  greets  his 
remark,  but  he  is  gone,  perhaps  to  conduct  a  group  of 
young  men  to  a  brief  service  in  the  chapel  of  St.  An- 
drew, or  to  look  on  at  children  in  a  dance  or  other 
gymnastic  exercise,  or  to  spend  ten  minutes  with  some 
sympathetic  soul  over  an  old  book  catalogue.  His 
vitality  must  be  enormous — remember  he  is  sixty-two 
now — and  his  interests  undeniably  are  varied,  for  he 
will  lay  down  the  catalogue  to  take  up  with  his  wardens 
and  vestrymen  the  business  of  the  parish, — say,  the 

12 


problem  of  raising  $250,000  for  the  endowment  of  St. 
James 's,  a  project  on  which  his  heart  is  set ;  and,  as  in 
the  past,  he  will  find  some  way  in  which  to  carry  out 
his  purpose. 


SEEMON  TASTING. 

Some  persons  do  not  catch  Dr.  Stone's  tone.  They 
may  even  think  he  is  cold.  That  is  because  he  does  not 
gush.  But  he  loves  Samuel  Johnson,  and  no  man  can 
bring  to  his  fellow  men  sounder  credentials  of  his  hu- 
manity than  that.  They  are  the  proof  of  a  clear  head 
and  a  good  heart.  The  doctor  can  quote  you  Boswell 
on  Johnson  by  the  paragraph,  and  with  chuckles.  There 
is  the  downrightness  >of  Johnson  in  some  of  his  apo- 
thegms, as  when  he  said  in  one  of  his  genial  books  of 
travel,  "When  an  Englishman  is  ill-bred  he  has  not  his 
equal  in  Christendom;"  or  when  in  his  New  Year's 
sermon  for  1914  he  uttered  these  pithy  sentences : 

"If  environment  and  association  mean  so  much, 
there  is  every  reason  why  we  should  give  the  gravest 
thought  to  them. 

"Emotion  is  nearly  the  worst  criterion  of  fact  pos- 
sible, and  excitement  is  a  poor  substitute  for  contri- 
tion. 

"Individuality,  though  real,  is  nevertheless  moulded 
by  conditions. 

"A  man's  house  is  no  longer  his  castle,  but  his 
sanctuary." 

And  this,  when  he  went  into  detail  on  the  subject 
of  "emotional  religion,"  was  especially  characteristic 
of  the  man : 

13 


"God  has  given  us  powers  of  emotion  and  feeling, 
for  which  we  cannot  be  too  thankful.  But  those  powers 
need  as  much  care  and  training  as  do  our  intellectual 
powers,  and  especially  so  when  they  touch  our  religious 
life.  There  is  a  tendency  to  make  emotion  and  sensa- 
tion the  foundation  and  test  of  that  life.  In  every  age, 
both  Christian  and  heathen,  large  numbers  in  the  com- 
munity have  indulged  in  ecstasies  and  raptures,  and 
thought  themselves  thereby  nearer  God.  'Oh,  I  feel 
it ! '  they  say.  It  matters  not  to  them  that  periods  of 
intense  excitement  and  fervid  enthusiasm  are  followed 
by  lamentable  reactions :  oftentimes  by  periods  of  weak- 
ened morals,  dead  unbelief,  and  icy  indifference.  It  is 
so  in  the  individual  as  well  as  in  the  community.  Highly 
hysterical  conditions,  however  pleasurable  at  the  mo- 
ment, cannot  be  maintained.  There  is  nothing  of  that 
sort  in  the  penitent  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross,  or  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  Redeemer  of  men,  or  in  the  humble 
and  devout  worship  of  God. 

" Because  you  'feel  it'  doe's  not  make  it  so.  It  is  not 
our  feelings  that  must  be  captured,  but  our  judgment 
that  must  be  convinced. ' ' 

And  this  on  environment,  as  to  the  words  heralding 
an  old  text,  was  emphatically  Johnsonian : 

"This  is  a  saying  most  people  recognize,  and  none 
can  prove  wrong,  'Evil  communications  corrupt  good 
manners.'  " 

And  this,  on  the  formation  of  character,  for  pithi- 
ness :  ' '  The  upbuilding  that  is  -silent  is  all  the  safer. ' ' 

His  sentences  have  cadence,  too,  when  it  is  his  de- 
sire to  give  them  that  quality,  and  in  the  New  Year's 
sermon  an  echo  of  the  musical  prose  of  his  books  of 

14 


travel  floated  to  the  ear  when  he  made  his  grave,  medi- 
tative farewell  to  the  vanished  year,  commenting  on  the 
fact  that  the  Church  did  not  mark  the  coming  of  an- 
other year  with  a  feast: 

"It  would  almost  'seem  as  if  the  intention  had  been 
to  let  the  old  year  slip  by  and  tell  its  own  story  as  it 
passes — a  fleeting  sound,  a  sigh,  a  murmur.  The  tale 
is  indeed  told,  but  it  is  not  done  with.  We  pass  the 
time  mark,  but  we  remain  ourselves.  Character  and 
destiny  are  not  ordinarily  changed  in  the  midnight  tick 
between  the  old  year  and  the  new." 


TO  THE  CHRISTIAN  AT  THE  NEW  YEAE. 

The  preacher  had  taken  his  text  from  one  of  the 
grandest  of  the  Psalms:  "We  bring  our  years  to  an 
end,  as  it  were  a  tale  that  is  told,"  and  he  began  with 
contemplative  words  on  the  passing  of  the  old  year. 
"There  is  a  sense  of  satisfaction,"  he  said  "when  the 
last  day  of  the  old  year  comes  and  the  first  day  of  the 
new  year  approaches.  We  are  weary,  and  a  possible 
chance  of  a  fresh  start  brightens  us  up.  The  chapter 
is  closed,  and  it  has  not  been  all  that  we  had  hoped  it 
would  be.  We  are  eager  for  the  morning  of  the  new 
year  which  may  hold  a  fairer  record  for  us. 

"But  curiously  enough,  of  all  our  holidays  New 
Year's  Bay  is  the  most  artificial.  A  few  centuries  since 
it  fell  in  March.  With  the  Hebrews  it  came  in  Sep- 
tember. The  Church  has  provided  no  service  for  it, 
and  no  celebration  marks  its  arrival.  Falling  between 
Christmas  and  Epiphany,  it  is  by  them  overshadowed. J ' 

As  to  the  spiritual  significance  of  the  day  to  the  in- 

15 


dividual,  lie  made  it  clear  that  he  thought  it  more  appro- 
priately dedicated  to  heart-searching  retrospect  than 
to  the  easy  and  jubilant  contemplation  of  a  new  pros- 
pect. The  days  that  had  vanished  had  dropped  into 
the  abyss  of  time,  but  they  had  left  much  behind.  i  i  The 
story  of  the  old  year,"  he  said,  "does  leave  its  im- 
press. We  may  not  like  what  it  has  been,  but  it  has 
helped  to  make  us  what  we  are." 

That  was  intensely  characteristic  of  him,  and  it  led 
him  up  to  the  essential  matter  of  his  discourse.  Not 
with  impetuous  resolutions,  not  witih  impulses,  not 
with  emotional  disturbance  was  a  Christian  to  face  the 
New  Year,  nor  by  those  means  nor  in  that  mood  could 
he  attain  the  perfecting  of  his  faith  and  the  deepening 
of  his  knowledge  and  love  of  Jesus  Christ.  Your  re- 
ligion must  be  your  study.  Soberly,  firmly,  the  preacher 
drove  that  thought  home,  saying: 

"It  is  sometimes  said,  that  in  the  future  Christ  will 
be  more  widely  and  deeply  loved,  and  that  the  theology 
of  Christ  will  pass  out  of  mind.  But  if  you  love,  you 
are  bound  sooner  or  later  to  ask  the  reason  for  that 
love.  I  trust  a  man:  why  1  Because  I  believe  in  him; 
but  my  belief  must  rest  on  some  knowledge  I  have  of 
him.  So  in  religion :  a  man  must  enquire.  If  he  have 
a  mind  at  all,  he  will  necessarily  delve  into  theology  or 
the  science  of  religion.  We  may  not  become  teachers 
of  others,  but  we  must  be  satisfied  in  ourselves.  Emo- 
tion is  nearly  the  worst  criterion  of  fact  possible.  A 
man  may  imagine  himself  in  the  best  of  health,  when 
he  has  within  him  a  deadly  disease.  He  must  examine 
himself  and  judge  according  to  the  evidences.  The 
mind  as  well  as  the  heart  must  exert  itself." 

16 


And,  solid  religious  instruction  and  not  luxurious 
emotionalism  being  the  vital  matter,  lie  said,  "For  such 
instruction  I  do  not  believe  that  any  system  approaches 
in  efficiency  the  service  of  the  Church  herself.  No  one 
can  use  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer  consistently  and 
persistently  without  finding  himself  in  an  environment 
and  undergoing  a  discipline  that  can  only  make  for  a 
highly  developed  and  comprehensive  Christianity — 
every  Sunday  presenting  some  distinct  fact  in  the  life 
of  our  Lord  or  in  practical  Christianity,  and  the  suc- 
cession of  Collects,  Epistles,  Gospels,  and  Lessons 
bringing  before  us  in  the  course  of  the  year  the  whole 
round  of  Christian  truth. " 

In  his  noble  sonnet,  "The  Liturgy,"  Wordsworth 
said  the  same  thing: 

"The  way  before  us  lies 

Distinct  with  signs  through  which  in  set  career, 
As  through  a  zodiac,  moves  the  ritual  year 
Of  England's  Church;  stupendous  mysteries! 
Which  whoso  travels  in  her  bosom  eyes, 
As  he  approaches  them,  with  solemn  cheer. " 

"But,"  warned  the  preacher,  "these  blessings  and 
these  privileges  are  not  self-operative.  Church-going 
is  a  habit  easily  got  out  of  and  hard  to  get  into  again. 
Going  to  church  once  in  a  while  is  of  little  use.  You 
have  got  to  grow  into  it. ' ' 

#         *        # 

DRIVING  HOME  THE  LESSON. 

He  glanced  over  the  not  very  large  congregation,— 
for  it  was  a  stormy  Sunday  morning,  and  it  had  fol- 
lowed hard  upon  the  tasks  and  the  gayeties  of  Christ- 

17 


mas  holidays, — and  he  minded  him  of  parishioners  who 
only  a  few  days  before  had  given  him  eager  assurances 
of  their  resolutions  to  be  faithful  in  attendance  at  di- 
vine service  during  the  coming  year.  Where  were 
they?  With  an  indescribable  dryness, — indescribable 
because  it  so  delicately  shaded  reproof  into  a  ruefully 
amused  understanding  of  the  ways  of  fallible  man, — he 
remarked:  ' ' Kesolutions  so  lightly  broken  were  better 
not  made.'7 

It  was  a  sobering  thought  and  brought  a  man  up 
standing,  as  so  many  of  Dr.  Stone's  brief  but  senten- 
tious utterances  do. 

"But  there  is  a  work  of  religious  instruction,"  he 
continued,  "  which  is  peculiarly  but  not  exclusively  the 
work  of  the  Church,  and  that  is  the  instruction  of  chil- 
dren. I  wish  that  I  had  the  mothers  of  Chicago  before 
me  that  I  might  tell  them  of  the  sin  of  entrusting  the 
religious  education  of  their  children  to  other  people. 
Nobody  will  ever  love  your  child  as  you  do,  and  the 
final  responsibility  for  the  child  rests  with  you. ' ' 

A  manuscript  was  before  the  preacher  as  he  spoke, 
but  his  hearers  were  not  conscious  of  it.  It  did  not 
come  between  him  and  them,  and  its  usefulness  seemed 
to  lie  in  the  fact  that  it  enabled  him  to  pass  easily  and 
lucidly,  without  break  or  confusion,  from  topic  to  topic. 
Thoughts  on  the  mother's  part  in  the  spiritual  training 
of  her  child  led  him  to  observations  on  environment, 
and  environment  prompted  reflections  on  the  home  as 
the  most  vital  factor  in  environment.  "Isolate  your- 
self as  much  as  you  will,  harden  your  conservatism  as 
much  as  you  will,  you  are  nevertheless  touched,  in- 
fluenced, and  moulded  by  environment.  And  because 

18 


it  means  so  much  it  demands  the  gravest  considera- 
tion. ...  I  would  have  you  think  of  the  home, 
therefore,  from  a  higher  point  of  view  than  is  usually 
taken — regarding  the  house  not  merely  as  a  lodging 
place,  but  as  a  home,  and  let  the  story  of  the  New  Year 
concern  itself  with  making  it  better,  cleaner,  holier, 
purer — a  fit  place  for  the  dwelling  of  the  King. ' ' 

As  he  drew  to  a  close  the  preacher  again  touched  in 
musing  retrospect  upon  the  mistakes  and  evasions  of 
the  vanished  year,  and,  though  he  spoke  gently  enough, 
he  put  a  period  to  musing  with  one  of  the  stern  and 
searching  questions  characteristic  of  his  instruction.  It 
was  this:  "Would  you  like  to  have  the  record  read 
out!" 

There  was  no  menace  in  the  tone,  but  it  was  a  ques- 
tion to  stagger  a  man. 

Thus  had  he  set  before  the  people  in  orderly  and 
intimate  array  certain  fundamentals  of  life  and  con- 
duct, and  thus  had  he  closed. 


THE  MAN  AND  THE  PEEACHER. 

In  fine,  this  sermon  was  like  the  man,  expressive  of 
his  deep  love  of  order  and  decorum  in  its  tribute  to 
"the  ritual  year  of  England's  Church,"  and  touched 
here  and  there  with  poetic  feeling.  Not  a  showy  ser- 
mon, but  the  sermon  of  a  wise,  forcible  man  who  seemed 
to  feel  that  there  was  a  great  deal  that  was  fallible  but 
forgivable  in  human  nature,  and  a  great  deal  of  bun- 
combe in  emotional  surge — a  sermon  of  instruction  and 
good  counsel.  As  to  matter  and  manner,  I  should  think 
this  preacher  would  wear  well.  Indeed,  he  has  worn 

19 


well  at  St.  James's  for  nineteen  years.  Dogged  has 
been  the  word  with  him,  and  he  has  had  to  drive,  but 
he  has  not  exhausted  the  people.  He  would  butter  no 
parsnips  for  the  parish  palate,  but  the  parish  has  come 
to  like  his  honest,  upbuilding  fare.  No  man  however 
rich  and  no  interest  however  strong  has  been  able,  in 
the  old  English  phrase,  to  "tune  the  pulpit "  during 
this  rectorship. 

This  article  records  him  as  he  stood  in  his  pulpit  on 
the  first  day  of  his  twentieth  year  at  St.  James's — the 
hood  of  his  doctor's  degree  laying  a  touch  of  scarlet 
on  Iris  white  robes,  his  gestures  clean-cut  and  moderate, 
a  forefinger  occasionally  lifted  in  admonitory  emphasis 
and  a  smile  of  friendliness  lighting  up  his  sad  counte- 
nance when  he  drifted  into  an  intimate  impromptu. 
Then  his  voice  became  very  gentle,  and  he  would  ad- 
dress the  people  as  "Beloved"  as  if  they  were  in  truth 
dear  to  him — very  dear,  but  perplexing. 

All  he  said  was  kindly  but  explicit — no  nonsense 
about  it.  To  sum  him  up  in  two  words  you  might  say, 
a  pastor  and  a  gentleman. 


ONE  IDEAL  OF  A  METROPOLITAN  RECTOR, 

I  do  not  know  that  Dr.  Stone  would  inspire  men — in 
the  sense  of  inflaming  their  hearts, — for  I  have  never 
worked  with  him  or  under  him,  but  I  am  sure  that  he 
would  and  does  guide  them.  He  is  a  leader  more  than 
an  exhorter,  and  he  is  more  intent  upon  finding  the 
way  than  upon  finding  words  and  rallying  cries.  He  is 
a  planner.  What  he  accomplishes  he  accomplishes  not 
by  drum-beating  but  by  taking  counsel  with  the  people. 

20 


A  method,  not  a  disturbance,  is  Ms  ideal  of  safe  means 
to  fruitful  ends,  and  at  St.  James's  that  method  has 
borne  rich  fruit.  The  heavy  debt  long  has  been  only 
a  memory,  but,  it  should  be  added,  that  memory  is  not 
allowed  to  lapse  from  men's  minds.  Why?  For  the 
most  important  of  reasons:  Because  it  infuses  new 
effort  with  caution;  because  it  is  sobering.  It  is  part 
of  the  method.  Past  perplexities  and  trials  overcome 
are  thus  a  source  of  permanent  profit. 

Some  pastors  are  for  the  campaign  and  the  mighty 
heave;  this  pastor  draws  his  inspiration  not  from  the 
turbulent  rhetoric  of  soldiers,  but  from  the  sober 
visions,  at  once  practical  and  far-seeing,  of  a  farmer 
who  turns  a  furrow  carefully,  plants  4eeP>  and  expects 
in  God's  own  time  to  reap  a  plenteous  harvest.  He 
once  said  to  the  writer:  "In  so  far  as  I  can  say  it 
without  arrogance,  and  in  so  far  as  it  is  humanly  pos- 
sible, I  want  to  leave  all  here  on  a  basis  so  substantial 
that  it  will  not  break  down  under  changing  conditions 
which  will  confront  the  parish  from  without  after  my 
work  is  done.  Conditions  will  change,  so  near  are  we 
to  the  heart  of  the  city.  We  must  work  now  with  an 
eye  to  being  useful  under  all  conditions.  Commerce 
some  day  is  going  to  surround  us,  but  we  must  not  let 
it  engulf  us.  We  shall  still  have  our  work  to  do.  That 
is  why  we  must  have  an  endowment,  but  not  an  endow- 
ment to  insure  permanency  merely  but  stability.  The 
latter  is  more  important  than  the  former.  An  endow- 
ment that  means  only  permanency  has  within  it  the 
peril  of  lethargy.  Suppose  our  annual  parish  budget 
is  $23,000.  An  endowment  that  yielded  more  than,  say, 
$12,000  or  $15,000  a  year  would  not  be  good  for  the 

21 


parish.  If  the  people  could  not  or  would  not  make  up 
by  their  contributions  the  difference  between  the  as- 
sured income  and  the  expenditure,  it  would  mean  that 
their  church-life  had  sunk  to  deplorable  inefficiency. ' ' 

Even  as  the  debt  has  vanished  during  the  Stone  rec- 
torship, and  even  as  the  parish  equipment — speaking 
of  its  working  plant  of  choir  room,  Sunday  School  hall 
and  Parish  House  generally — has  expanded  until  now 
St.  James's  Church  properties  overlook  three  streets 
in  the  heart  of  a  sedate  residential  district,  even  so  will 
the  endowment  fund  be  accumulated.  When  that  is 
brought  to  pass  nobody  will  realize  that  a  big  thing 
has  been  done  because  nobody  will  be  conscious  of  a 
strain.  Just  this  way,  not  in  swift,  racking  years,  but 
in  slow,  cautious  decades,  the  buildings  of  the  parish 
grew  to  stately  completion. 

To-day  all  is  in  order  at  St.  James's.  There  is  no 
bareness  and  there  is  no  clutter.  The  evidences  on  the 
one  hand  of  emptiness  and  on  the  other  of  precision 
would  delight  the  conscientious  head  of  a  government 
bureau.  Everybody  has  a  place  for  his  work,  from  the 
curate  to  the  choirboys,  and  everybody's  place  is  re- 
spected. With  the  rector  on  a  weekday  this  writer 
passed  through  long  halls  and  up  and  down  stairways 
from  the  sanctuary  to  the  choir  room.  The  doctor  un- 
locked the  door,  and,  as  he  swung  it  wide,  said,  "Few 
but  the  choir  ever  enter  here.  They  are  very  particu- 
lar, and  they  do  not  like  anything  to  be  touched. ' '  He 
fairly  tiptoed  about  the  place,  and  seemed  rather  re- 
lieved when  he  had  got  out  of  it.  This  side-light  on 
the  man  was  illuminating  as  well  as  diverting.  Loving 
system  himself,  he  respects  the  other  fellow's  system. 

22 


Using  his  helpers  he  also  considers  them,  and  so  avoids 
exhausting  them.  Consideration  is  the  secret,  and  if 
it  is  as  much  an  attribute  of  manners  as  of  piety  it  cer- 
tainly is  essentially  Christian.  This  tense,  firm,  man- 
aging man  has  it.  Even  in  a  fifteen-minute  conversa- 
tion with  him  you  feel  that  he  is  considering  you,  but 
not  patronizing  you.  There  is  a  big  difference. 
*  *  * 

THE  PRIEST  AS  MAN  OF  LETTERS. 

His  passion  for  system  distinguishes  the  ordering 
of  even  his  literary  loves.  One  of  those  loves  is  works 
of  travel  and  topography.  With  him  that  means  a  good 
deal  more  than  a  shelf  full  of  Bayard  Taylor  and 
Landor;  it  means  seven  hundred  volumes  of  books  of 
travel  collected  on  the  basis  of  a  system  which  makes 
them  representative  of  the  standard  literature  of  the 
subject  from  Herodotus  to  Tom  Hood's  "Up  the 
Rhine."  Of  importance  equal  to  the  collection  itself 
are  the  digests  of  the  works  it  contains.  Here  Dr. 
Stone  throws  the  whole  accumulation  of  lore  open  to 
the  student  by  means  of  an  epitome  and  survey  of  each 
work.  These  digests,  written  out  in  his  own  hand,  if 
printed  in  crown  octavo  would  make  ten  or  twelve 
printed  volumes  of  four  hundred  pages  each.  It  is  a 
genuine  loss  to  the  cause  of  antiquarianism  that  these 
notes  have  never  been  published,  or  at  least  deposited 
in  a  public  library. 

For  so  much  toil  can  system  make  time  in  the  life 
of  a  busy  pastor. 

And  more. 

For  the  doctor's  published  writings  include  the  early 

23 


and  unpretentious  sketches  of  the  English  countryside 
entitled  "The  Heart  of  Merrie  England "  (1887), 
"Over  the  Hills  to  Broadway"  (1894),  and  "Woods 
and  Dales  of  Derbyshire"  (1894).  He  has  also  written 
"From  Frankfort  to  Munich"  (1894) ;  and  of  theolog- 
ical books,  "Readings  in  Church  History"  (1889) 
"Three  Hours'  Service  for  Good  Friday"  (1903),  and 
three  volumes  of  New  Testament  studies  entitled  ' '  The 
Prayer  Before  the  Passion"  (1911),  "The  Passion  of 
Christ"  (1912),  and  "The  Glory  After  the  Passion" 
(1913). 

And  yet  this  parish  priest,  who  unites  in  himself 
the  tense  executive  and  the  patient  scholar,  has  vision. 
Perhaps  in  that  attribute  lies  his  secret.  He  has  made 
method  and  system  work  for  him  to  the  realization  of 
his  visions.  In  the  passage  beginning  "There  history 
lives,"  in  "Woods  and  Dales  of  Derbyshire,"  he  com- 
pacted a  thousand  years  of  English  political,  religious, 
and  literary  history  into  three  pages.  Those  lines  com- 
prised merely  allusions,  of  course,  but  they  were  allu- 
sions that  allured,  and  every  sentence  glowed.  Thus, 
"Resplendent  are  the  scenes  of  the  vast  drama — now 
a  purple  tragedy,  and  now  a  dazzling  triumph,"  and 
so  on  in  swift  but  unhurried  pageantry  of  stately  words. 

The  same  sedate  vivacity  distinguishes  many  a  pas- 
sage in  his  exegetical  writings.  Toward  the  end  of 
"The  Glory  After  the  Passion,"  he  is  talking  of  the 
necessity  of  pious  concentration,  as  well  as  of  abstrac- 
tion, in  the  study  of  sacred  themes  if  the  facts  and 
the  philosophy  of  the  world 's  religious  experiences  are 
to  lay  hold  of  the  mind  of  modern  readers  as  he  be- 
lieves they  ought  to  lay  hold.  "Such  things,"  he  says, 

24 


1 l  need  more  thought  than  most  people  have  to  give. 
Even  the  study  of  sacred  literature,  though  at  this  time 
engaging  more  than  ever  the  earnest  thought  and  work 
of  scholars,  has  fallen  off;  so  much  so,  that  congrega- 
tions are  fast  losing  the  meaning  of  allusions  and  illus- 
trations used  in  the  pulpit,  and  Bible  Classes  are  de- 
generating into  societies  for  district  visiting  and  pleas- 
ant evenings.  This  is  in  sympathy  with  the  spirit  of 
the  age:  action,  not  thought;  physical  enterprise,  and 
not  spiritual  culture/' 

'•'It  is  not,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "the  hardness  of  the 
doctrines  that  stands  in  the  way,  but  the  trouble  it 
takes  to  think  of  them.  People  are  not  interested  in 
them, — at  least  to  the  extent  they  were  some  genera- 
tions since.  They  will  not  dismiss  them  as  undeserving 
of  credence,  even  though  they  belong  to  the  supernat- 
ural ;  for  if  religion  be  admitted  as  a  quality  or  factor 
in  human  life,  the  supernatural  is  inseparable  from  it. 
Indeed,  its  purpose  is  to  bring  that  life  which  is  above 
nature  into  relationship  with  the  life  which  is  accord- 
ing to  nature.  In  other  words,  it  would  make  the 
unknown  knowable,  and  reveal  the  nature  and 
the  kingdom  of  God.  The  Descent  into  Hades  and  the 
Ascension  into  Heaven  are  not  therefore  always  passed 
over  for  the  reason  that  they  are  strange  in  ordinary 
experience  and  in  physical  phenomena;  but  because 
they  appear  to  have  no  bearing  whatever  upon  the  mat- 
ters which  affect  our  present  life.  There  is  nothing 
in  them  sufficient  to  draw  one 's  attention  from  the  dis- 
coveries which  are  going  on  in  nature,  or  from  the 
furtherance  of  political  or  commercial  undertakings. 
They  belong  to  a  world  in  which  man  is  not  immediately 

25 


interested.  Even  from  the  ethical  point  of  view,  no 
improvement  seems  to  follow  from  faith  in  the  events 
of  Christ's  after-life.  They  may  be  true,  but  they  are 
negligible:  and  such  things  have  no  place  in  a  world 
engrossed  in  problems  belonging  to  its  own  existence, 
and  engaged  more  absorbingly  than  ever  in  adjusting 
its  ills  and  correcting  its  errors.  Thus  it  happens,  that 
Christian  folk  solemnly  and  in  the  presence  of  God 
declare  their  belief  in  these  Articles  of  the  Creed,  often- 
times without  any  intelligent  or  anxious  thought  as  to 
the  meaning  of  the  words  they  utter. " 


A  VISTA  OF  THE  CENTURIES. 

Then  his  mind  dwells  musingly  upon  the  mighty 
changes  of  two  thousand  years,  and  his  pen  epitomizes 
them.  From  the  abundant  stores  of  his  reading,  his 
travels,  and  his  meditations  he  draws  his  allusions  and 
makes  his  pictures.  The  result  is  almost  a  panorama. 

"Neglect,  however,  is  not  the  only  difficulty.  Time 
builds  up  a  more  formidable  barrier.  It  is  so  long 
since  these  things  happened.  Nearly  two  thousand 
years  have  gone  by,  and  Calvary  has  become  an  insig- 
nificant point  in  a  rapidly  darkening  past.  Nor  is  it  the 
lapse  of  ordinary  years.  Changes  of  tremendous  mag- 
nitude have  taken  place  which  make  the  events  of 
Christ's  life  still  farther  off  than  simply  these  many 
years.  We  sometimes  speak  of  the  separation  which 
the  Reformation  created  between  the  times  which  pre- 
ceded it  and  the  times  which  followed  it ;  but  that  sepa- 
ration is  narrow  compared  with  the  gulf  that  the 
French  Revolution  and  the  Victorian  Age  have  made 

26 


between  the  present  century  and  the  seventeenth,  and 
is  next  to  nothing  to  the  distance  from  earlier  ages 
effected  by  the  invention  of  printing,  and  by  the  down- 
fall of  the  Eoman  Empire.  It  is  all  so  far  away,  in 
time  and  conditions :  that  morning  when  Pontius  Pilate 
condemned  Christ  to  death,  and  that  night  in  which 
the  Lord  of  life  went  down  into  the  underworld.  So 
much  has  happened  since.  The  Jerusalem  that  Christ 
saw  perished  within  a  few  years  of  His  crucifixion; 
the  hill  of  the  tragedy  and  the  site  of  the  grave  are 
unknown;  only  the  rough  conformation  of  the  country 
remains.  .  .  .  More  has  gone  than  buildings.  Lan- 
guage, modes  of  thought,  manners,  conceptions  of  life, 
ideas  of  religion,  political  and  social  institutions,  rites 
and  ceremonies,  have  passed  away,  and  only  the  skill 
and  industry  of  the  antiquary  and  the  historian  can 
bring  back  their  shadows.  .  .  .  The  mind  is  apt  to 
consider  an  event  of  years  so  distant  as  rather  curious 
than  serious, — much  as  the  traveller  wandering  through 
the  excavated  streets  of  Pompeii  pictures  pleasantly 
to  himself  the  scenes  that  once  were  common  there, 
hears  the  songs  of  slave-girls  and  the  cries  of  vendors 
of  goods,  recalls  the  magistrates  and  merchants  in  the 
forum,  the  priests  in  the  temple-courts,  the  acrobats 
and  players  in  the  theatre,  the  gossips  at  the  fountains, 
the  worshippers  before  the  street-shrines,  and  the 
houses  in  which  the  walls  were  covered  with  the  bright 
colours  and  graceful  designs  of  the  artists,  and  the  gar- 
den, enclosed  by  stately  colonnades,  was  lively  with  the 
songs  of  birds,  the  splashings  of  water,  the  strains  of 
stringed  instruments,  and  the  play  of  children.  As  he 
allows  imagination  freedom,  for  him  the  city  lives 

27 


again.  It  becomes  as  it  was  before  the  dust  and  ashes 
fell  from  the  mountain  of  fire.  But  the  dream  of  Pom- 
peii is  only  a  dream,  though  the  neighbourhood  be  one 
of  exquisite  loveliness,  and  the  uncovered  buildings  tell 
a  story  unlike  all  other  stories ;  and  what  the  people  did 
there,  or  who  they  were,  matters  little  to  the  traveller 
when  he  gets  back  to  his  toil  or  pleasure.  He  has  had 
a  vision  of  a  world  in  which  he  has  no  part. ' ' 

But  there  is  peril,  he  adds,  in  this  luxurious  pic- 
torial musing  when  it  is  indulged  in  by  the  Christian 
considering  the  remote  chronicles  of  his  faith,  and  so 
he  warns  the  imaginative  religionist: 

"There  is  beauty  in  the  dream;  but  the  reading  of 
the  story  is  as  when  one  wakes  out  of  sleep.  Once  the 
personages  depicted  were  real,  and  the  deeds  they  did 
were  deeds  that  the  people  of  their  day  had  no  doubt 
of;  but  now,  instead  of  history  we  see  romance,  and, 
in  place  of  fact,  allegory.  And  yet  fancies  of  this  kind 
obstruct  truth,  and  rise  from  an  indolence,  which  may 
be  delightful,  but  is  also  deadly.  There  was  a  night  in 
which  Jesus  of  Nazareth  passed  into  the  realm  of 
Hades,  and  a  morning  in  which  He  rose  again  from 
the  dead.  These  acts  may  not  be  set  aside  as  insig- 
nificant because  they  happened  in  times  and  under  con- 
ditions far  distant  from  our  own.  Much  less  may  they 
be  ignored,  because  at  present  life  is  so  occupied  with 
other  things.  The  time  and  thought  they  demand  for 
their  consideration  afford  some  evidence  of  their  im- 
portance. A  religion  that  needs  no  study  or  effort  is 
worthless;  and  the  man  who  refuses  to  take  the  pains 
and  trouble  to  discover  on  what  he  is  resting  his  pro- 
fessions and  faith  is  dishonouring  himself." 


The  three  volumes,  into  one  of  which  we  have  looked, 
contain  the  substance  of  many  a  sermon  and  instruction 
uttered  in  the  pulpit  of  St.  James's,  and  he  who  would 
comprehend  the  teaching  and  the  spirit  of  that  pulpit 
during  twenty  fruitful  years  will  find  the  whole  matter 
set  forth  in  these  books. 


THE  THRESHOLD  PRAYER. 

Take  James  Samuel  Stone  out  of  his  books  and  set 
him  face  to  face  with  his  people  as  friend,  neighbour, 
and  guide,  and  vision  still  attends  him. 

There  is  nothing  that  so  tenderly  and  beautifully 
illustrates  this  attribute  of  the  man  as  his  Prayer  of  the 
Blessing  of  the  Threshold  at  the  coming  in  of  the  New 
Year.  He  wrote  it  for  use  in  the  parish  of  St.  James. 
None  can  fail  to  recognize  that  it  has  something  of  the 
dignity  and  much  of  the  spirit  of  an  ancient  office  of 
the  Church. 

For  forty  years  Dr.  Stone  has  stood  at  midnight  on 
the  last  day  in  the  old  year  on  the  threshold  of  his 
habitation,  and  prayed  for  God's  blessing  on  all  who 
through  the  coming  year  should  pass  within  his  doors. 
When  a  youth  the  place  was  at  the  door  of  his  dormi- 
tory in  school  or  seminary.  The  years  came  and  went 
and  touched  his  hair  with  kind  and  venerating  hands. 
The  young  seminarian  became  a  man  of  large  affairs, 
but  still  at  that  midnight  hour  he  opened  wide  the 
door,  and  lifted  up  his  heart  in  petition  and  blessing. 
Sometimes  the  storm  without,  sometimes  the  silent 
stars,  gave  him  answer. 

Even  unto  his  sixtieth  year  he  takes  his  stand  in  the 


quaint  doorway  of  St.  James's  Rectory,  from  the 
shadows  float  the  words  of  the  Threshold  Prayer,  and 
not  infrequently  a  little  group  of  parishioners  gather 
to  share  a  good  man's  solicitude  and  cheer. 

0  GOD,  who  art  the  Lord  of  Time  and  of 
Eternity,  and  who  watchest  over  thy  people  and 
givest  unto  them  the  blessing  of  peace,  Grant 
that  all  they  who  enter  this  house  may  come 
with  hope  in  their  hearts  and  with  gracious 
words  upon  their  lips;  and  that  all  they  who 
leave  this  house  may  go  in  peace,  and  take 
with  them  feelings  of  kindness  and  good  will. 
May  we  who  bid  them  farewell  remember  them 
with  gladness.  Let  him  who  comes  as  an  en- 
emy, should  there  be  such,  go  away  as  a 
friend;  let  him  who  comes  as  a  friend — and 
may  there  be  many — go  away  with  greater 
love  and  with  joy  abounding.  Let  the  thres- 
hold which  divides  the  world  from  this 
house  be  the  place  of  consecration  between 
the  world  and  this  house,  and  the  line  where 
happiness  ever  begins  and  never  ends.  May 
this  be  Thy  will,  0  Father  of  the  many  man- 
sions, where  with  thee  we  hope  eternally  to 
dwell,  for  the  sake  of  JESUS  CHRIST,  our 
Master  and  Redeemer.  Amen. 

As  he  stands  there  in  the  silent  night,  a  cassocked 
figure  outlined  against  the  dim  light  within  his  home, 
his  head  bowed,  his  hands  raised  in  benediction,  it  is 
fitting  that  we  meet  his  blessing  with  our  Godspeed, 
and  wave  to  the  fatherly  priest  our  brotherly  fare- 
well. So  to  remember  him  is  good. 

30 


C4 


RftRE 


Studies  in  the  Life  of  Jesus  Christ 

by  the 
Rev.  James  S.  Stone,  D.  D. 


I.  THE  PREPARATION  FOR  THE  PASSION :  A  Study 

of  the  Incarnation  and  Virgin  Birth  of  our  Lord,  and  of 
His  Life  from  Bethlehem  to  Cana  of  Galilee. 

(Ready  in  November.) 

II.  THE  PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  PASSION;  or,  Our  Lord's 

Intercession  for  His  People.  A  Study  Exegetical  and 
Practical  in  the  1 7th  Chapter  of  the  Gospel  according  to 
St.  John. 

"In  all  that  Dr.  Stone  writes  there  is  s  strong  note  of  sincerity ;  he  never  pretends 
to  explain  without  understanding;  what  he  says  is  always  interesting." 

— Guardian  (London.} 


III.  THE  PASSION  OF  CHRIST:  A  Study  in  the  Narratives, 
the  Circumstances,  and  some  of  the  Doctrines  Pertaining 
to  the  Trial  and  Death  of  our  Divine  Redeemer. 

"Every  page  of  the  work  is  lighted  up  with  the  consciousness  of  God's  love  for 
man,  manifested  in  the  Redeeming  Sacrifice  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Dr.  Stone  is  no 
iconoclast,  but  a  builder,  one  who  labors  under  a  profound  sense  of  the  responsibility 
of  his  task,  and  who  does  his  work  with  a  reverence  which  is  equalled  only  by  his  dili- 
gence and  skill.  .  .  .  The  book  is  not  argumentative :  it  is  devotional  in  a  way  that  is 
likely  to  appeal  to  men  who  want  a  reason  for  the  faith  that  is  in  them,  and  whose 
attachment  to  Christ,  if  it  is  to  be  real,  must  be  based  on  something  deeper  than  the 
emotions."— Scottish  Chronicle  (Edinburgh). 

"Scholarly  and  critical,  it  is  also  devout  and  practical,  and  one  lays  it  aside  with 
a  distinct,  vivid  and  solemnizing  picture  of  the  whole  scene,  its  incidents  and  charac- 
ters, with  many  reflections  on  its  meanings.  Against  the  background  of  the  changing 
religious  thought  of  our  day  the  mighty  fact  of  the  Passion  is  made  to  stand  out  in  a 
way  to  arrest,  awaken  and  exalt  even  the  most  careless.  It  is  a  noble  book,  nobly  con- 
ceived, rich  in  allusion,  simple  and  beautiful  in  style."— Record  Herald  (Chicago). 


IV.  THE  GLORY  AFTER  THE  PASSION:  A  Study  of  the 
Events  in  the  Life  of  our  Lord  from  His  Descent  into 
Hell  to  His  Enthronement  in  Heaven. 

"We  can  heartily  recommend  this  book  to  students  or  to  any  one  who  wishes  to 
strengthen  the  foundation  of  his  belief  in  our  Lord's  Resurrection." 

—C?iurch  Quarterly  Review  (London). 

"It  is  earnestly  to  be  hoped  that  the  purpose  of  Dr.  Stone  to  arrest  the  attention 
of  the  present  day  Church  to  the  great  facts  following  upon  the  death  of  our  Lord  will 
be  crowned  with  success  and  that  a  new  devotion  to  Him  will  be  vouchsafed  us  all." 

— Princeton  Theological  Review. 


LONGMANS,   GREEN    &    CO. 

Fourth  Avenue  and   30th   Street,  New  York 

London,  Bombay,  and  Calcutta 

(Can  be  had  through  any  bookseller.    Price  $1.50  each.) 


